It seems like we’ve been
waiting here forever,
but the train has finally come.
You sit awkwardly beside me, sleeping,
troubled in your dreams,
a fitful moment of rest after another wearying day.
echoing room seems quiet,
deserted at this late hour
except for your constant presence;
the dull humming and beeping of machines
long ago ceased to disturb us;
the flashing lights no longer seem significant.
I wish that I
could wake you,
tell you that I’m going,
take you back to a time by the lake, or the carnival –
anywhere but here.
You shift in your seat and smile,
living a rare moment of peace in your dreams.
Our shared past
never prepared us for this,
watching me become weaker and weaker,
shedding baggage until only 88 pounds remain.
I had everything I needed when we first arrived,
but there has been less and less left of me
with each passing moment.
And now the wait is over, for both of
I board the train,
watching down upon you from the steps.
The beeping of the machines becomes one steady tone,
and you wake abruptly as attendants and staff push past.
I’m sorry,” one speaks, “but he’s gone.”